Did you see anything?
Did you think of me?
I think of sinking.
I think of relaxing my limbs and ignoring the ache in my lungs that points me to the sky. Of relinquishing the struggle.
Then the image stops.
This is the difference: I cannot let myself sink.
I’m running now. I cross Dune Road, fly through the parking lot, and don’t stop until I reach the rocks, heart pounding. Sand whispers through the tiny spaces in my shoes. In the summer I’d be barefoot by now, leaving divots in my wake as I sprinted to the waves. I climb up the rocks and make my way over to the smooth, cool surface of the one I’d done a handstand on. The white caps hiss, the waves curl and crash onto themselves, the tide floods over the rock and immediately soaks my shoes, and I don’t budge.
I always have to fight back. If Marcos hadn’t jumped in after me on Senior Cut Day, I would have found my way out, or tried my damnedest to do so. Cass was right. I don’t need him. I want him, though.
There was no way I could have gone back into the gym with Emery to “say goodbye.” I had to see if there was still a shot that I could flip again. I’m still testing. Part of me has been fighting this retirement for months now, and finally, that part is breaking the surface.
I might not ever be able to fully understand what Cassie tried to do, but I have to help her fight, too.
Ping-ping-ping–my phone erupts with texting tones. I’ve caught the lone bar of service down here. With my eyes on the water, I pull the phone from my pocket.
NEW HAMPSHIRE IS GIVING ME A FULL RIDE I’M SO EFFING HAPPY I JUST CRIED IN CLASS WE NEED TO CELEBRATE.
It takes a moment to process. Words like “great” and “amazing” and “awesome” should come forth right now, but they feel distant. Somewhere back on the bridge above the tides.
HE SAID HE LOVED MY VAULTING ABILITY HE MUST BE DRUNK I DON’T EVEN CARE.
“Congratulations,” too, the obvious one, flat as the plastic rings under the bridge.
I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE THE LOOK ON VANESSA’S FACE.
Vanessa. Matt. Erica and Nicola, bickering with each other yet always in sync. My old teammates who left the gym. Tiana and the little ones, who move through the day at the gym or on the monkey bars of a playground, jackets dangling over their heads. Little girls who don’t feel anything but the sting in their hands after a long practice on bars or the heaviness of the first gold medal around their necks. Nothing but joy.
STOP BEING A NERD AND ANSWER MY MESSAGES. THAT’S SO AWESOME CONGRATS, I finally respond.
Sorry for all-caps. But we need a serious FIESTA!! Fiesta. Just as far away as the playground.
A second message. Srsly couldn’t have dealt with all the stress this fall without you. You have no idea!!! Xoxoxo.
I haven’t helped with anything. I’ve let Emery drive me to the gym and she let me do conditioning next to her. As if being a friend is that easy. Simple participation in the same space.
If I had answered the phone, would Cassie have been jolted awake from the dream?
That’s what you’re supposed to do as a friend. You support the dreams, the good ones, and you shake your friends out of the bad ones. Bad boyfriends, bad haircuts, bad decisions. I was too caught up in forgetting my old dream, competing for Ocean State, to help Cassie out of hers.
I need to be awake.
Not just for Cassie. For me, too.
AS I CROSS the dunes, the reeds bent in the breeze as if bidding me farewell, I call the first person I trusted. Not Cassie, not Emery, not even my parents.
“Savannah?” he says when he answers, sounding out of breath. That makes two of us. The connection’s staticky and unclear. I’m so grateful and relieved that he picked up that I start rambling.
“Slow down, kid, I can’t hear you!” He laughs. “How’s the old man? Driving you up the wall yet?”
“You have no idea,” I say. Since whenever we talk to Richard it’s usually interrupted by him needing to run off, I get to the point. “Do you have a minute?”
“For you? Of course.”
I grin. Richard did his share of teasing me as a kid, but with the six-year age difference, more often than not he was the one babysitting and driving me to the gym if our parents had to work late. Haltingly, I tell him about Cassie.
“You have a boyfriend now?” he asks when I finish. “Has Dad printed out his transcript yet and hung it up on the refrigerator?”
“Richard!”
“I’m kidding. Well, I hope I’m kidding. Anyway, sounds like you’ve had a hell of a fall, kid. I’m sorry to hear about Cassie.” He sighs. “I wish I didn’t relate. Unfortunately, I do. We lost a guy over the summer to suicide.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It happens, I’m sad to say. That’s the thing: you don’t always know. Some people can seem like the happiest and most well-adjusted guys you’ll ever meet, and the next day, they put a gun to their heads.”
I shudder.
“There was nothing you could have done to stop her. You’re doing your best, kid. Just keep being there for her. Keep being you.”
His words are simple, yet they make me feel so much lighter. When we hang up a few minutes later, I make my way up and over the bridge again. I hear the steady cracking of my ankles, the quiet soundtrack under the wind.
MATT CLAPS. “GATHER around, ladies. Make her as uncomfortable as possible.”